


Polka Dot Hearts

by castrophrenia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Nonsense, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 00:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14605029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castrophrenia/pseuds/castrophrenia
Summary: He meets her at an airport. And she’s exactly everything he shouldn’t want. And exactly everything he does. (Post series nonsense).





	Polka Dot Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this quite literally over five years ago and it’s sat on my hard drive(s) since with seemingly no intention of doing jack all with it. It’s been a while so whether or not the epilogue I didn’t totally love anyway mentioned Dudley is mostly irrelevant to me, lol. I hope nothing feels too jarring but I know this isn’t my best work but I still like the concept. Anyway I figure why not post it in its unedited glory because what else is it doing? Enjoy my garbage.

He meets her at airport. She's got this windswept look about her, all chaos and confusion. Something about her is just...catching. Her hair is thick and a pretty sort of gold brown, tumbling all over her in asymmetrical waves as she cocks her head. Her lips are bright and glossy, standing out against her pale face. He thinks she's beautiful.

But in the way things that are odd and out of place are beautiful, like her features don't make sense apart but for some reason on her he thinks it's sort of alright. No one would call her looks classic, her nose is too small, bottom lip too full, and cheekbones rounded not sloping, eyebrows too thick and chin kind of pointed. Yet...

She's carrying a giant purse and digging through it, her luggage knocked over by her feet. Her scarf is a horrid orange, her jacket is purple but her t-shirt is bright blue and her jeans black and trainers pink. It’s terrible. A horrid clash of ridiculous and obvious and he likes it all the same. There are things spilling onto the cheap carpet that probably used to be a color that isn't brown but she pays no notice and he just...stares. Can't not.

"Stupid, bloody, expanding doesn't even..." She mutters to herself, frustrated. But then she stills, her hair is now a curtain across her face. Breaking her pause she looks over to him through it. Her eyes narrow, he notices they’re mismatched. One a funny kind of brown, the other hazel. “Can I help you?”

He realizes that he’s been staring at her for a fair few minutes now and his mouth sort of opens and closes as he tries to think of a plausible explanation for it. She heaves a sigh, it blows errant strands around her face and she lifts her hand that had been in her purse to push it all back sweeping it to one side. She returns his gaze for a few moments longer but then seems to give up on it, since he still hasn’t said anything just keeps his jaw together snapped, and resumes her search.

He doesn’t stop watching her, he knows he should, he understands that he should have walked away ages ago except…

He knows right off that this is exactly the type of girl he shouldn’t be staring at, she’s odd and strange and absurd. His mother would hate her, so would his father at that. They abhor all things different and out of place, anything abnormal, anything weird and strange. Even after they came out of hiding it was like they tried even harder to suppress whatever was unconventional.

So he should not be staring at her--who is undoubtedly the most bizarre and peculiar person he’s ever seen--not like this, except…

Except it’s like there’s something inside him that telling him he should. There’s something about her he feels like he needs to be a part of, needs to understand. He has to speak to her. He has to know her. He’s sure he’ll never forgive himself if he doesn’t because…well because…

She looks up again from her rummaging and there’s a frown that creases her brow. “You’re not like…you’re alright then yeah?” She asks, her concern leaking into her voice. “I mean are you lost, or you don’t speak English, or you’re not all there or something?”

Finally his voice returns to him. He grips the strap of his duffle bag a little tighter and steps forward as he speaks, “No I’m…I’m sorry for staring. I just…” He cleared his throat. He had never been good with this sort of thing. “You…I couldn’t help it…I guess.” He finished lamely with an almost shrug.

Her lips twitched as she began to form the words, “You…couldn’t help it?” And there’s something of a smile starting to form. He swallowed heavily; feeling like a golf ball was stuck in his throat.

“Um…yes?”

A myriad of expressions flash on her face before mirth claims the victory and she laughs. It’s not pretty or demure and her hand covers her mouth as she chuckles. Her nails are purple too. He hopes this means he gave the right answer because he doesn’t like the idea that she’ll stop talking to him. Her eyes roam his face and her smile stays firm in place.

“Are you having a go at me? Did somebody put you up to this?” He must look confused because she waves it off before he can even answer. She falls back to her purse. “No of course not, stuck in Muggle London, had to fly back because my license expired. Still can’t find my bleeding…” She coughs, and her eyes flick to him then back to her bag. “Anywhere because I just couldn’t be bothered to check the other stupid case and now I accuse you of being deficient, foreign, and part of some kind of prank. Right.” She shakes her head. “This is why you’re supposed to renew it at the six month mark, but no I just had to see the cave in the Andes. I just had to be the first back. I have the impulse control of a parakeet. And now I’m grounded and accosting strangers and spilling out my whole bloody pocketbook because I can’t find my damn-Oh!” She beams at him. “Knew it was in there somewhere.”

Through her entire tangent he finds himself more not less invested in this girl. Which is incredibly problematic since, “Did you say Muggle London?” His mouth is dry as he asks, and his chest constricts because he’s pretty sure he wants…wants…well her. He wants her. More than he may have wanted anything else he can remember and not only is everything about her wrong but the thing, the worst possible thing, the thing that would never be alright in his family’s eyes, she has it.

She blushes and he loves it. “Oh, yes, I did, it’s um…see I…it’s slang. From um, where I live and it, uh, Merlin I’m rubbish at this,” The girl rubbed her forehead. “Think a half-blood would have more sense. I mean.” She coughed again.

He shouldn’t be but he’s smiling. This is wrong, so wrong, the most unforgivable kind of not okay. Except… “My cousin. He’s one of your lot.” He offers instead. She returns his smile and it lights up her whole face. He knows he probably looks ridiculous because he’s grinning like an idiot for no reason other than that and he doesn’t even know this girl. But he wants her, he’s sure of it. More sure then he’s been since before those things showed up and Harry saved his life.

“You mean a wi-“ She rolls her hand, asking him to confirm.

“Wizard yeah. I guess he was kind of important in your war. He won’t say and we didn’t…” He trails. He was about to tell her all of it. This complete stranger who couldn’t be stranger.

He was going to tell her about the time they lost, hiding amongst wizards and witches. How his parents refused to leave the house at all, refused to even acknowledge their protectors. How he spent it learning all about the sacrifices Harry had made for all of them, the sacrifice his aunt made that started it all. How he lost half his body weight when forced to realize how horrible he’d been, how horrible they’d let him become, how wrong they were about the world, and how the scrawny kid he’d beaten and berated all his life was willing to give up so much to protect him despite it but he didn’t deserve it.

He can’t say all that though. He doesn’t know how. She frowns at him and reaches forward, resting a small hand on his upper arm. “There’s always time.” She says and he’s staring again because it’s like she knows what he was thinking about when he got lost there. “You might not think so, but you’re family and that will always be something.”

“I’m Dudley.” He offers, putting his hand out. She smiles warmly and takes it.

“Jane.” She extends back. Of course the only thing normal about her is her name.

“Do you…” He shifts his weight. “What are your thoughts on waffles?”

She laughs again, and he loves it, weird rhythm and all. “I have no particular objections to them.”

He tries to remember to breath, “Would you want to go get some? Now? With me?”

“I think so, yeah.”

\---

Waffles turns into a trip through wizarding London and dinner and drinks and when he falls asleep in his flat that night he knows he signed his own death warrant. She’s even more ridiculous than he imagined, completely disorganized and mad as a hatter, she jumps from topic to topic and doesn’t always seem to understand how. She goes off rambling for half an hour at time, then seems to remember herself and apologizes and asks him endless questions, except he likes it.

He’s never been much for words, and no one would call him articulate. He’s quiet and cautious and easy to pass over. But she’s loud and silly, and he’s not sure she’s even kind of sane and he’s never met someone like her. She’s fun and he likes it. He likes her. She refuses to let him observe, she makes him participate, and if he or they look the fool she doesn’t seem to care. He’s not sure she understands how odd she can be.

Waffles turns into going out five times in six days. It turns into later nights and earlier mornings and in a month or two he tells her all of it. Tells her about Harry, tells her about the Dursleys senior, and Lily Evans Potter and the terror that he never would understand. She tells him about the attack on the school, where she was still a student, and how many people they lost that she admired but never truly knew and how despite it all her family had beaten the odds and kept all its members but that they were one of the few.

She talks about the turmoil the world faced, and how his cousin meant hope and someday her people would put it all back together. He talks about football and not finding a place in the world past university. He tells her about the person he was before their war followed Harry home. She tells him they’re proof that he’s better.

Waffles turns into six months, it turns into her saying ‘I love you’ and him trying to say it back with the way he holds her at night and the kisses he presses to her temple and never quite letting go of her hand. He knows that she knows and they’re working on the rest.

\---

It’s Christmas and they skipped his parents and after hers she convinces him to visit the Burrow. He stands outside the door terrified for almost an hour and she lets him, his hand clasped firmly in her own. He’ll always remember it as the first time he really met Harry. Maybe because it’s Christmas, or maybe because so much time had passed, and so many chairs are empty that shouldn’t be, but Harry’s initial reaction isn’t to punch him in the face. He thinks that’s something.

He stands there unsure of how to explain why he’s here but he knows he needs to try. “I know it doesn’t make sense, me being here, and it’s Christmas, but Jane thought and well, I wanted, and…” He rubs the back of his neck with the hand not holding Jane’s. “This is Jane.” He offers, and she gives his cousin a small wave, looking at her boyfriend with an amused smile. She squeezes his hand reassuringly and nods once.

Harry doesn’t miss this; he looks Jane up and down and his gaze lands on their joined hands. “Wait…is she…you’re a witch?” She answers in the affirmative and then the young man starts the laugh. It’s not malicious or exclusive, but genuine and soon Dudley joins in. Because of all the people in the world they are the only two that understand why this is so hilarious. Jane, because she’s Jane, lets them laugh and thinks nothing of it.

Harry invites them in after that, and if there’s an awkward moment when he’s introduced his cousin kills it with a meaningful look at the large party gathered around the table. The wizard then introduces Jane and while confused stares abound, no one questions their inclusion. Then he meets Harry’s family, Harry’s real family.

He has brothers, and a sister, and a toddler that he’s raising with bright turquoise hair. There’s this pretty, redhead girl that looks like she could make the whole earth move if she were angry enough that looks at Harry like Dudley looks at Jane. There are moments that are awkward and awful but somehow the night moves on.

Later when Jane is deep in discussion with the three year olds and Arthur Weasley Harry finds him watching her from the edge of the living room. “I almost wouldn’t believe it.” He says quietly.

“I’m still not sure I do.” Dudley replies, finding himself smile as Teddy pulls enthusiastically on Jane’s locks. He turns to his cousin. “But I…well. I love her, Harry. I think, I dunno, I think I might have from the first second I saw her there. She’s…” And he’s trying to find a way to explain waffles, and orange scarves and mismatched facial features in one word. “She’s wrong.” He decides. “She’s absolutely everything I shouldn’t want and the only thing I do.”

Harry grins at him, a knowing sort of grin that would have driven him crazy when they were younger. “Your parents, they won’t be alright with this, you have to see that.” The taller young man continues solemnly.

“Yeah,” Dudley responds and they’re quiet for a spell. “I’m sorry.” He says finally. Harry looks to him, an unsure kind of surprise coloring his face. “I never understood exactly what they took from you until tonight,” He gestured around. “Until this. I’m sorry for my part in that. I talk to Jane about it, but she doesn’t really understand, she apologizes to the poles she bumps into, I can tell her but she’ll never really understand how…how horrible I was-we were to you. I’m glad that it…that you found your way, you know, even with all that.”

His cousin’s expression softened. “If…if you ever need help, with Petunia and Vernon, and Jane I mean.” Harry shrugged. “I don’t know that I’d even be any help, might make it worse actually, Hermione’d be better with that sort of rubbish but she’s pregnant and not to be trusted at the moment, but even if, I guess, it was just so you knew you had someone that understood.”

Gratitude isn’t a big enough word then. “I think I’d choose her over them.” He says quietly. “I know, actually, I’ll choose her over them.”

“Well…they may surprise you. But…but if they don’t… You have me, us, Ginny and Teddy and me. For you know, things like Christmas.”

“I think I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> so... review? Lol


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